


Leaving

by Thei



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: Hopper gets a visit at the station.orBilly Hargrove is leaving Hawkins.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 70





	Leaving

Out of all the things Hopper would have expected to happen on a Thursday at 10.30 am, Billy Hargrove barging into his office was at the bottom of the list. Usually, the boy avoided the police like the plague, and quietly accepted his speeding tickets to get away from them as soon as possible. Now, he threw a painfully fake apologetic smile back at Flo, who was glaring at him from the hallway, and motioned at Hopper with a flourish.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I simply _have_ to have a chat with the Chief, here.”

Flo, to her credit, just crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Hargrove to catch Hopper’s eye, raising an eyebrow in question. Hopper, who at Hargrove’s entrance had been busy pondering whether the sandwich he forgot in his drawer yesterday was still edible today, sighed and nodded.

“It’s okay, Flo.”

Rolling her eyes as if saying ‘suit yourself, but I’m not handling the paperwork’, Flo left the two of them alone. Hargrove gave a cheeky little wave before closing the door, and then he walked up to one of the chairs in front of Hopper’s desk and dropped down in one of them without being asked to, making sure to sprawl out obnoxiously. He didn’t drop the sarcastic smirk, and Hopper felt a headache coming.

“Hargrove,” he said by way of greeting.

“ _Chief_ ,” Hargrove said, too polite to be sincere, and steepling his fingers in front of him.

“Right,” Hopper said, already wishing for the day to be over. “Why are you in my office, Hargrove?”

“I am glad you asked!” Hargrove said and threw his arms out widely. “It’s my birthday today! As of 7.45 this morning, I am eighteen years old.”

Hopper narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Not _yet_.” And the boy actually had the audacity to _wink_ at that.

“Listen, if you’re planning on getting into trouble just because you turn eighteen …”

“Ah, but that’s the thing!” Hargrove interrupted, leaning closer. “I’m not. If anything, I’m getting _out_ of trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

The kid didn’t answer right away. Instead he stood up and started walking around the room. He stopped by the bookcase and, with a thoughtful little hum, picked up a yellow scrunchie that had been placed on top of a pile of books between a plaque and a half-dead potted plant. Hopper didn’t keep any pictures of El at work, but this – a scrunchie she’d left behind in the car one day – wasn’t incriminating in any way. He had a lot of stuff in his bookcase that weren’t books; it acted as a kind of lost-and-found for the whole station.

And now Billy Hargrove was standing there, thoughtfully pulling on the scrunchie. “Your girl, she’s friends with Max, right?”

Hopper scooted his chair back and stood up, chair screeching against the floor. It wasn’t a secret, per se, that he had adopted a daughter, but he’d tried to keep it on the low-down, so hearing her being mentioned so casually rubbed him the wrong way.

Hargrove seemed to take his reaction as an affirmative, and turned towards him. Placed the scrunchie back where he took it. When he saw the look on Hopper’s face, he shrugged and offered, “Max won’t shut up about her friends” as an explanation. And then, when Hopper’s eyebrows drew together, he continued, “Point is, Max seems to think that you’re a good guy. A good _dad_. Is that true?”

Hopper scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, putting on his best ‘do not mess with me’ face. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Well, you’re the Chief of Police,” Hargrove said from the other side of the desk. “I’m just a concerned citizen, making sure the right kind of person is in a position of power in this town.” Hopper huffed out an unimpressed laugh, not buying it for a second. “So, are you? One of the good guys?” He glanced up, and for a fraction of a second he looked unsure – younger – before the mask was back in place again. Still, it was enough for Hopper to relax his stance a bit.

Sighing, and hoping that answering would make the kid get to the point, Hopper gave a nod and answered. “I try to be.”

A couple of seconds passed, and then Hargrove nodded, as if to himself. “Good enough.” And then he shrugged off his jacket. He threw it over the back of the chair, and then reached down for the hem of his T-shirt and – before Hopper had a chance to stop him – pulled it over his head.

Now, a lot of weird things had happened in Hawkins since Hopper took over as Chief of Police, but a teenager stripping in his office was definitely a first. “Hey now,” Hopper said, holding his hands up as if trying to hold something back. “What are you –?”

“Today’s my birthday,” Hargrove interrupted, turning around so his back was to Hopper. His _bruised-to-hell_ back. “But my dad was kind enough to give me my present early.”

Hopper let his hands drop to his sides. “What.”

“I missed curfew yesterday,” the kid continued, conversationally, and glanced over his shoulder, “by twenty minutes. My dad decided to teach me the merits of being on time.” There were two big blotches of color on his back. Purple, blue – not colors that belonged on skin. Based off their placement, Hopper guessed that he was on the ground when he got them. While being kicked, maybe.

“Shit, kid.” He fumbled on his desk for a notepad and a pen. Found them, and cleared his throat. Fell back into the role of Police Chief. “Um, you say your dad did this to you?”

Hargrove sat back down in the chair, still shirtless and holding his T-shirt lazily in one hand. He leaned back easily against the backrest, and if it hurt him, he didn’t let it show. “That is what I’m saying, yeah.”

Hopper sat back down as well, because looming over a beaten kid from behind his desk was perhaps not the best idea. Instead he cleared his throat again and started taking notes. “So, uh, has he ever done anything like this before?”

“Oh yeah,” Hargrove said, easily. _Too_ easily. Like they were discussing the weather. “It happens all the time. He’s been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Right,” Hopper said, frowning down at his notepad. “Are there any records of it? I mean, did you … did you talk to anyone back in … uh, back in California? The police, or a teacher, maybe? A school nurse, or …?”

“What?” Hargrove asked, and for the first time he sounded a little thrown off. “No. Why?”

“Cases like these, it might be hard to get a conviction without solid evidence.” That earned him a frown, and he hurried to add, “I believe you, kid, it’s not that! It’s just, it’d be easier if you’d talked to someone back there, there should be records –”

Hargrove held up his hands to stop him. “Whoa there. I’m not trying to get my dad convicted of anything.”

Slowly putting his pencil down, Hopper looked up at him, frowning. “You’re not?”

Hargrove sat in the chair, without his shirt on and with just a hint of purple visible on his side, and shook his head. “No.”

“Then why the hell –” Hopper started, but stopped himself and took a breath. “Then why are you telling me this? _Showing_ me this? If you don’t wanna –”

“Because I’m leaving.”

Hopper opened his mouth, then closed it again. The kid took the opportunity to put his shirt back on. As he smoothed the fabric down over his chest, Hopper blinked and tried to make sense of things.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yeah,” Hargrove said, raising his chin. “I’m eighteen now. The car’s in my name. I’m not taking anything out of that house that isn’t clothes or things I’ve paid for myself. You can’t stop me.” He tensed up as he spoke, and looked ready to bolt by the time he finished.

Hopper took a deep breath and wished for a cigarette. “Okay, calm down, kid, I’m not gonna stop you. But I have to ask, why even tell me all of this if you’re not gonna stick around?”

He didn’t get an answer right away. Hargrove grabbed his jacket and twisted it between his hands, and looked down at it instead of meeting Hopper’s eyes. Just as Hopper opened his mouth to rephrase the question, Hargrove seemed to steel himself before speaking.

“Before my dad started smacking me around, he was beating on my mom.” The statement had Hopper close his mouth with a clacking of teeth. Hargrove didn’t seem to notice. “She’d get between me and him, although I didn’t get that until later. Eventually, she got sick of it, I guess. She got out. Left him.” A breath, and a glance upwards. “And me.”

“Kid –”

“I don’t blame her,” the kid continued, giving a little laugh and motioning to himself. “I’m doing the same thing, now – leaving. I just don’t want … I don’t want to leave Max unprotected.”

Hopper paled at the implications. “Is he hurting Max, too? Or his wife?”

Hargrove shook his head. “Not Max. Never Max. Susan, I’m not sure. We’re not … we’ve never been that close. I don’t think so, but. He might.” He looked up, stared at Hopper straight on. “He didn’t _really_ start laying into me until mom left. And I don’t want him to start in on either of them, just because I’m not there.”

Without quite realizing it, Hopper had grabbed his pencil again, and was tapping it against his forgotten notepad. “What do you want me to do about it?” Only when Hargrove’s face twisted into something ugly did he realize how flippant that had sounded, and by then it was too late to take it back. The kid was quick to school his features back into something approaching respectful, and spoke before Hopper could backtrack.

“I _want you_ to do your _job_. You’re the Chief of Police. If an innocent person is getting hurt in your town, I expect you to make it stop. Especially if it’s a _kid_.” Unsaid; Hopper hadn’t been doing his job very well up until now.

“I’m –”

But the kid had picked up steam by now. Gained some confidence, or perhaps decided to risk Hopper’s ire. “I _want you_ you to make sure that Neil doesn’t start in on _Max_ when I’m not around anymore to act as his punching bag. She’s friends with your daughter, for fuck’s sake! What kind of a police are you if you’re gonna let a little girl get hurt?”

Hopper held his hands up. “Okay, stop. Of course I won’t let anything happen to them if I can help it. But that’d be easier if I could put him behind bars. And _you_ , frankly –” He motioned to the kid’s torso, “– are the best way to make that happen.”

But Hargrove was shaking his head before Hopper had even finished, letting out a little laugh that didn’t sound amused in the least. “No. I’m not sticking around for that.”

“But if you’d just –”

“No! I’m not staying an _hour_ longer in that goddamn house, in this goddamn town, in this goddamn state! I … I _can’t_. Can’t you see that? I can’t.” He took a shuddering breath and rubbed his hands over his face. When he dropped them, he took another deep breath and said, calmer now, “Can you protect them or not?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Hopper said, truthfully, and watched as Hargrove closed his eyes momentarily and bit his lip. “But I’ll do my best.” Hargrove opened his eyes again, and watched Hopper’s face. As if trying to gauge the truthfulness of his statement. Hopper looked back, trying to let his sincerity shine through.

“Good,” the kid said, finally. “Thanks, I guess.”

And with that, he stood up and put his jacket back on and made to leave.

“Hey, kid?” Hopper said, stopping him. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I could have helped you.”

“No,” Hargrove said, and produced a pair of sunglasses out of a pocket. “You couldn’t have. Not while I was under his roof.” He put the sunglasses on, and threw a blinding smile Hopper’s way – the kind of smile that he wore all the time, and that Hopper only now realized wasn’t real. “But I’m not under his roof anymore. And you can help me _now_. By not letting him hurt Max … or Susan.”

Hopper swallowed, hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

Hargrove nodded, as if taking it for the promise it was, and turned again to leave. With his hand on the door handle, he snapped his fingers and turned around once more. “Oh, and you may get some calls about this. Sorry in advance.” He didn’t sound sorry in the least.

Hopper, who had stood up from his chair too, intending on following the kid outside, frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

Making a faux-apologetic gesture, Hargrove said, “I didn’t know if you’d believe me, or agree to help. So I _may_ have told some other people to be on the lookout, too.”

“What people?”

“Oh, you know. A couple of teachers, neighbors, some of the ladies in Susan’s book circle. Max’s friends’ parents. The church.” He nodded towards the hallway outside the office and grinned. “Even your terrifying secretary out there has a note waiting for her.” He shrugged. “I’ve been driving around since Neil left the house for work today, leaving notes, letters … I actually had a lovely breakfast with Mrs. Daniels across the street, when she caught me dropping off a letter in her mailbox this morning. It turns out that she likes me. Gave me a box of cookies for the road, and everything.”

Hopper groaned at the thought of the barrage of calls from concerned citizens that he would have to deal with in the near future, but couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. The kid was smart. “Thanks for the extra work, then.”

Hargrove looked absolutely unremorseful. “You’re welcome.”

Huffing out a laugh, Hopper nodded. “Well then, the small-town rumor mill is already on it. By nightfall, there won’t be anyone in town who hasn’t heard.”

Hargrove gave a little salute. “It’s what I’m counting on, Chief. Why do you think I’m leaving early?”

“You’re leaving right away?”

“You’re my last stop.”

“All right,” Hopper said, inclining his head. “Well, I think that between all of us, we’ll be able to keep them safe.” He paused for a second before adding, a bit more somberly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do the same for you.”

Hargrove shrugged, dismissing it easily – again, _too_ easily, as if it didn't matter. And then he … didn’t leave. He just stood there by the door, biting his lip as if there was something else on his mind and he was struggling to get it out. Or as if he was hesitant to ask.

“What?” Hopper prompted.

Hargrove made a face. “Just, one more thing?” And then he continued before Hopper had the time to nod; “Don’t let him pack up and leave with them, just because things may become uncomfortable for him here. If he’s leaving, don’t let him bring them with him. He’ll just start over somewhere else, where there are no eyes on him.”

He sounded tired, all of a sudden. Like he was speaking from experience. And Hopper got the sudden urge to pay Neil Hargrove a not-so-friendly visit and have a not-so-friendly _talk_.

“I won’t. I– We won’t let that happen.”

“Thanks.” And with that, the kid finally opened the door. Just as he was stepping out, Hopper found himself asking;

“Where will you go?”

The smile that bloomed on the kid’s face at that question was less blinding than his normal one – less teeth, and a bit crooked – but a hundred percent real.

“I’m going home.”

And then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I just need that boy to have a happy ending. And maybe, that happy ending isn't in Hawkins, Indiana.
> 
> Unbeta'd, read through once before posting.


End file.
